


Tell Me Who You Are

by WindingArrow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 21:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7070320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindingArrow/pseuds/WindingArrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the most wonderful time of the year. Why not share it with the ones you love? Share your hopes. Share your dreams. Share the secret that you are a wand-wielding witch. These are the struggles Dominique Weasley is dealing with this holiday season. She hopes her boyfriend will understand and accept her, but what he doesn't know is this isn't the first time they've done this.</p><p><i>Honorable Mention For Lost Muse's Muggle Challenge</i><br/>Story takes place inside the HoS AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phase One: Bring Boyfriend To Dinner

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** Please enjoy and know that I really own nothing except the Original Characters. All hail the JK Rowling, mother of the Harry Potter universe!

"Wrong!"

A dress flew from the closet and landed on the bed. The room was small, not much space for more than the bed and the vanity next to it, but the closet was huge which made living in the small space worth it.

"No!"

Another dress careened after the first.

"Ugly!" Another. "Terrible!" Yet another. "Why would I even _own_ this?!" This one was a pant suit.

Dominique Weasley flung herself from the closet next and landed on her bed, the clothes hangers biting into her back uncomfortably, but she felt like she deserved it. It was her birthday and Christmas and she hadn't a proper thing to wear to dinner. An orange tabby with a smashed face and a black ringed tail jumped right onto her stomach. Crookshanks the Second, progeny of Hermione's cat and a stray she had taken in.

She sighed, stroking the cat who half purred, half growled. When her parents had owled her about plans for the evening, she had told them all she wanted for both events was to go to dinner at a restaurant of her choosing. _No magic!_

For weeks she had been getting nothing but owl after owl asking why and what sort of presents did she _really_ want. Her sister, her brother, her parents... Recently, a concerned letter from her Aunt Piper had made it's way to her, no doubt her mother trying to find all her weak points. Trying to find someone she would crack to.

Dom was about to crack, alright. Under the pressure of her parents going precisely _against_ her wishes. She wished she could take it all back, cancel everything. But reservations at The Ledbury were difficult to come by and she had made them weeks ago with her mother in mind. French cuisine would certainly soften her up.

 _You act like you've never done this before,_ she scolded herself. "Which part?" she asked aloud. "Introducing my parents to my boyfriend, or telling my boyfriend I'm a witch?"

Crookshanks was displaced from his resting space with a yelp as Dom finally pulled herself up and drew her wand. The clothes put themselves away, leaving only one article behind. She considered the garment for a moment. It was a short sleeve, floral print pin-up style dress. With one wave of her wand, the flowers disappeared, leaving it plain black. Another flick cut and folded the round neckline, making it now off the shoulder. She pointed at a drawer on her vanity and it flew out, dumping it's contents on the bed before returning to it's place. She selected a wide red belt and a mistletoe broach. One last flick and the remainder of the items went back into the drawer which closed itself.

This was why she loved working at Madame Malkin's. It may not be the successful career choice her parents would want for her -certainly not a great Healer like Victoire or an Auror like Louis was training for- but she loved what she did and just working on the outfit had calmed her down. _One day, I'll have my own shop,_ she thought to herself. _Just like Uncle George._

~*~

The knock on the door startled her. She had just been finishing her hair. Several things around the tiny flat were magically doing things of their own accord- dishes washing themselves, laundry folding itself, broom sweeping the floor. Dom whispered a hasty, " _Finite incantatem!_ " and the objects stopped, some falling where they were to the floor. She opened a drawer and stuffed her wand inside before rushing to the door.

There he stood, all tall, dark, and handsome, her own Mark Ross. His blue eyes beamed down at her and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Then he laughed.

"Is that a new hair style?" he asked.

Dom cursed herself and ran her fingers through her hair, removing the last of the curlers. "Don't laugh! A woman has to work hard to be this cute and sometimes things get left behind!" she scolded playfully.

"You're cute all the time," he assured her. He pushed at one of her earrings, making it sway from her lobe, before taking a moment to admire the rest of her. She flushed. "Happy birthday. Are you ready?"

Dom arched an eyebrow at Mark. "I think I should be asking you that question. You're the one who's going to be under fire here soon."

The somersaulting of her stomach began anew and she didn't have time to perfect another outfit to get her mind off of it.

"For you, I could take on the world," he replied lovingly. He kissed her again, a real kiss this time. "Come on. I have a family to wow."

Mark helped her into her coat and they left. It was a calm winter's night. The snow fell softly and in the London street lights they glowed in a beautiful, otherworldly way. Mark wrapped an arm around Dom.

"It's almost magical," he said quietly into her ear. "Just like you."

Her stomach clenched and she tried to smile. _You have no idea._

~*~

The staff at The Ledbury had arranged several of their small rectangular tables toward the back of the dining room to accommodate the large party of eight. Victoire had brought Teddy Lupin along (who, _of course_ , had to have bright purple hair for the evening) and Louis had some girl Dom had never even heard of before. Supposedly she was a French girl herself, also training to be an Auror, but that conversation was stopped dead in its tracks.

The soft, glowing elegance of the restaurant seemed like a stark contrast to the turmoil erupting inside of Dominique.

Presently, they were finishing their orders off, ending with Bill, her father.

"Rare," he kept saying. "Rarer than you've ever cooked a steak before, you understand. That's the rare I'm talking about." In addition to his liking for under cooked meat, Dom hadn't thought of a story to explain her father's scars away either. They were a glaring reminder of a past she hadn't told Mark about.

She couldn't keep from biting her nails as the waiter finished up the order. Under the table, her foot was tapping wildly. Her mother kept tossing disapproving looks at her, but she couldn't help herself.

"Of course, sir. Will there be wine this evening?" the waiter asked.

"Lots!" Dom burst out before she could help herself. Her parents stared and she flushed. "I mean yes. A nice blush, please." The waiter nodded and as soon as both mother and father looked away, she signaled that she wanted two bottles. The man smiled kindly and nodded. He looked as if he understood.

"So, Mark," began her mother, turning to him expectantly. "Please tell us 'ow you met our beautiful daughter." She smiled warmly.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, Mrs. Weasley-"

"Ah, please call me Fleur- Mrs. Weasley iz Bill's mother's name."

Dom rolled her eyes. The waiter had already returned and had filled her glass first. She gratefully took a long gulp.

"Alright, Fleur," Mark continued. "To be perfectly honest, we met as your daughter was mocking my sense of fashion."

"Oh, I was not!" Dom shot back.

"You're right!" Mark agreed. "The word I should have used was 'heckling.'"

Dom gave him a reproachful look while her family snickered. None of them were surprised. She wracked her brain. Is that what had happened?

"I was buying a pair of Bermuda shorts and she absolutely tore me to shreds over the decision and proceeded to hand me what she thought was a more appropriate choice of clothing." He paused to take a drink of his wine. "I will admit, it looked damn good, but I bought the shorts anyway."

His telling refreshed her memory and she shook her head. "Don't forget, you staked out the store for the next week, hoping I would come back," Dom said, smirking. It had been cute, she had to admit.

"It was not a week!" he protested. Then he added, "Not a _whole_ week..."

She was starting to relax. Mark had that effect on her and the parentals seemed to like him. But suddenly, her mother was speaking rapidly in French to her father, her brow furrowed in confusion. She couldn't quite catch what they were saying at the other end of the table, but she heard the word 'Muggle' and began to stiffen again.

Victoire picked up the conversational lull. "What school did you go to?" she asked. "You don't look very familiar to me and I made it a point to know everyone." She looked just like their mum, her hair a silvery blonde and her eyes a piercing blue. It was like watching colors fade, putting all three kids together. Blonde to strawberry-blonde to fiery red for their little brother.

"Kingsbury, actually," he answered. Dom did not know how to stop this line of questioning.

Victoire's brow furrowed. "I'm not familiar with that school," she confessed. "Is it in Europe?"

Dom held her breath as Mark laughed. "It's one of the more well known schools and, yes, it's most definitely in Europe." He glanced at Dom questioningly.

Without warning, she dumped her wine in his lap. "Oh! Oh, I'm so clumsy! Darling, you should go and get that cleaned up! Go, go, shoo!"

Bewildered, Mark stood, his nice white shirt now stained pink. As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Dom turned to glower at her sister. "Outside. Now."

"I was only-"

" _Now!_ "

Dom marched outside with the expectation of her sister following her. What she got was both siblings. She shook her head and kept going until they were in the alley. Before she had even opened her mouth, Louis had his wand out and was making things float. He had no reason to do so, he just felt like it. Dom snatched his wand from his hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "We are in the middle of Muggle London! Do you _want_ the M.L.E. on your case?"

Louis snickered. "I _am_ the M.L.E., in case you forgot, sis."

"You're not yet, in case _you_ forgot!" Dom pulled the wand from his reach when he grabbed for it back and shoved it firmly down her cleavage. "You won't be with stupid risks like that! You're not in school anymore, these aren't the halls of Hogwarts! And what part of no magic do you idiots not understand!"

Victoire blanched. "Well, if you had told us that your boyfriend was a bloody Muggle, maybe we could have worked this out better!" she shot back.

Dom's nostrils flared. "I wanted you all to know him, first. To know him and to like him!"

"What's the big deal? I know loads of people with Muggle parents and who have dated Muggles," Louis put in. He was having trouble with what to stare at. Looking at his wand meant looking at his sister's breasts and he wasn't altogether comfortable with that.

"It's Mum and Dad. They're both Purebloods, both terribly disappointed in the choices I've made and I just want them to _like_ him! They hate that I didn't do anything with my Obliviator training. All they hope for now is that I meet some respectable wizard- and you both know how Mum is." Dom sighed and put a hand to her head. She couldn't deal with this.

Her sister reached out and put a hand on her bare shoulder. It was the warmth of her touch that made Dom realize it was freezing out and she hadn't grabbed her jacket. "He doesn't know yet, does he?"

Dom looked up. Victoire's face was full of understanding. "What am I supposed to tell him? That I'm a witch who can do magic? That I contemplate turning his boss into a toad every time he makes him work late? That I come from a long line of-"

"Humans," Louis said, hands in his pockets. He, too, was understanding. "Incredible humans who can do incredible things. We're all humans in the end, Dom. Don't forget that."

She shook her head. It was a long and old argument she was tired of having. She wasn't sure she could do it again. Not unless she knew for certain that he could accept it. "We're not even human, Louie. We're all part Veela. We're part bloody creature. I can't ask him to accept that. I have no right."

"You sound like you're ashamed of what we are," Victoire remarked. There was a slight edge to her voice.

Before she could reply, movement behind the two drew Dom's attention. Her breath hitched.

"Mark..."

Victoire and Louis both spun around. Mark's bright blue eyes were filled with confusion, hurt, maybe even anger. Definitely fear. He turned and began to walk away. Dom ran. Not again.

"Mark!"

He didn't answer her. He opened the door of the restaurant and went back inside. Victoire and Louis came to stand on either side of her, each offering a hand of support on her shoulders.

After a moment, Louis asked, "Can I get my wand back now?"

"Shut up," she snapped.


	2. Phase Two: Explain the Wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My name is Mark Ross. I went to Kingsbury, a public High School here in London. I work at an architecture firm here in the city. And Bermuda shorts-" He looked at Mrs. Fleur Weasley. "-are a knee-length garment that some people find unattractive, but at least I didn't buy the bloody shirt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Please enjoy and know that I really own nothing except the Original Characters. All hail the JK Rowling, mother of the Harry Potter universe!

Mark walked determinedly to the back of the restaurant where the other four members of the dinner party still sat, talking among themselves. _Creature. Veela. Witch._ The words kept running around in his head while his brain played back snap memories of his eight month relationship with a girl he knew as Dominique Weasley. Her smile. Her jokes. Her disapproving looks about his wardrobe choices. Her fire. Her kiss. _Creature. Veela. Witch._ They all blurred together. His heart pounded with each step.

"Mark!" She was following, calling to him, drawing stares. "Mark!"

He didn't stop until he had reached the strung together tables. Her mother and father looked at him and he wasn't sure what it was they saw. He was now almost completely aware that they knew just as little about him as he did them. More so. Worlds of difference spanned between them.

"My name is Mark Ross. I went to Kingsbury, a public High School here in London. I work at an architecture firm here in the city. And Bermuda shorts-" He looked at Mrs. Fleur Weasley. "-are a knee-length garment that some people find unattractive, but at least I didn't buy the bloody shirt."

He paused, not sure where to go from there.

Fleur looked past him to the space behind him where he knew Dominique and her siblings were standing.

"Pourquoi ne pas nous dire qu'il était un moldu?" she demanded.

"Maman," Dom pleaded, "s'il vous plaît, il est un homme merveilleux!"

"Et il ne sait que tu es une sorcière?" Mother Fleur did not seem at all happy.

"I came here tonight," Mark interrupted -now she seemed less happy- "because Dom loves you all very much and I love her." The statement brought everyone to silence. He hadn't said it out loud before, but he'd known for a while now that it was true. _Creature. Veela. Witch._ He loved her. "I came here to meet you, to celebrate Christmas, and to celebrate her birthday. I also came here to ask permission... To marry her."

He heard her gasp and he closed his eyes. This was not at all how he had planned this in his head.

"However, I understand now that I understand nothing and while I still want to marry Dom, all cards on the table, I know that has to wait. Because I need some time to process this." His heart was thudding wildly. It should break through his rib cage at any moment, he thought. "Whatever it is that this... Is. Can I please ask that we all sit and be civilized and eat our meals and make pleasant conversation and let Dom and I sort this all out later?"

There was no reply. He took his seat and was followed by Louis and Victoire. The only one left standing was Dom and he couldn't quite bring himself to look at her. His face was burning and his head was spinning. The ring in his pocket felt like a weight.

Finally, Dom took her seat. More wine came and the whole table drank deeply from their glasses.

"So, lovely weather this time of year, eh?" said the boy he'd been told was Teddy. "Anyone see the tree in Trafalgar Square?"

~*~

They hadn't spoken about it at all during dinner. He had made a face when he saw her give Louis his wand back. They didn't speak on the cab ride back to her flat. They didn't speak up three flights of stairs. She fumbled with her keys trying to sort out which one she needed. Her hands shook so badly, she kept losing it in with all the rest. When they finally fell to the floor, Mark stepped forward and unlocked her door for her. It was supposed to be a sign of trust, him having a key to her place. She felt like a cheat. A three time cheater.

Dom quickly stooped and picked up her keys before entering the little flat. She heard him close the door. She sat on the edge of her love seat, not even bothering to remove her coat or her shoes. She had gotten into plenty trouble growing up, most of it no thanks to her big sister trying to stay out of trouble. She had never felt so in trouble as she did right now.

Mark took the chair opposite her and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a small box, opened it, looked inside, and then set it on the table between them. Finally, he settled his gaze on her, but she would look no further than the edge of the table.

"I bought this ring," he began quietly, "for a woman I know as Dominique Weasley. She is smart, funny, spontaneous. She works at a shop I've never been to. Never even learned the name of. She works out her frustrations in her styling projects. She wants to open her own shop one day. She has the strangest cat I've ever seen, a gift from a family friend. She loves ice skating. She is never ashamed or apologetic for anything that she is. She never misses a football game. At least, she hasn't since I introduced her to it."

Her mouth twisted. She hadn't missed a football game in four years. She'd been dating Mark for eight months.

"That is who this ring is for," he continued. "Who is sitting in front of me?"

Dom finally met his gaze. There was longing in there. He wanted to know, wanted her to tell him everything. Her heart pounded in her ears. What if history repeated itself?

"My name is Dominique Weasley," she said. Her voice was small, barely a whisper, but her words were practiced. She'd had this conversation before. "I work in a shop called Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. My cat is part Kneazle and I've owned her since I was eleven. I love football. It reminds me of Quidditch. And I am not... I'm _not_ ashamed of what I am. I'm simply afraid you won't..." She stopped and wiped her eyes. He said he loved her earlier, why should she be crying? "I'm scared you won't love all of me."

"How can I if you don't tell me who you are?"

~*~

Robes for all occasions? Like bath robes? Kwi-ditch? What the hell was a Neezel? Mark's head was spinning and they had only just begun. He rested his chin on his clasped hands and gave her a hard look. He didn't mean it to be, it simply was. He was overwhelmed.

"Just talk," he pleaded. "Don't stop talking."

Dom took a deep breath. Without realizing it, Mark did, too.

"I am a witch," she said. First mark down. He'd heard her say that in the alley. A witch. "I come from a long line of witches and wizards. On my dad's side. My mum is one quarter Veela... That makes me... One eighth."

"And..." He cleared his throat and composed himself. He just wanted the information, he reminded himself. "And what is a Veela?"

"It's, um..." Dom swallowed and added hurriedly, "I don't really have anything in common with them. My blood is too polluted, so to speak. A full blooded Veela is a human-like creature. Very beautiful. White-blonde hair, blue eyes. They sing and dance to magically enchant men, sort of like, um... A siren? But when they are angry, they turn into... These horrible... Winged beasts..." She shuddered a bit. "A pure Veela relative came to a family function once. It wasn't very pretty."

Mark let out a long breath. "Well, I've seen you plenty angry. You've never sprouted wings." He wasn't sure what he would do if she did.

She shook her head quickly. "No one has! My grandmother could be pretty scary sometimes, but my mother was never like that and neither is my sister. Hell, I can't even sing or dance..."

He grinned a bit. "I disagree, but maybe that's just me."

In the back of his mind, he wondered how much of a Veela she really was. He considered her and what she had told him. Could he be in love with her because of this other thing that ran through her veins? That was another thing. Magic. All over the world were stories of men falling in love with women due to magical means. He had mulled over for two months straight, wondering if he was in love with her. When he had come to the clear conclusion that he was, he had bought the ring. Thought out the whole thing. He had been prepared.

What about now? Was he _really_ in love with her? He eyed her closely, trying to see her through the eyes of a stranger. All he could see was his Dominique.

"What else?" she said suddenly, more to herself than to him. "Um... I attended a school for magic called Hogwarts. It's one of several schools of magic around the world. My mother actually went to one in France. Let's see... I was sorted into Ravenclaw, one of the four houses. They're sort of like dorms? Maybe like a club? I dunno, I just know every other member of my family was a Gryffindor. Well, except my Aunt Piper. She was a Ravenclaw, too. Her kids were in other houses, I think... guess she doesn't really count if she's married in..." She gave a large sigh, glancing around the flat. "I studied... Transfiguration... Potions... Charms... Normal... Magic stuff."

Suddenly she rose and went to a kitchen drawer. She withdrew a wooden stick, not unlike the one she had given to Louis when they left the restaurant.

"This is my wand," she confessed.

"You keep it in the kitchen?" he asked.

"Only when Muggles -non-magical folk- knock on my door," she said with an apologetic shrug. Muggle. Somehow the word seemed mildly insulting. "This is what we use to make magic happen. Some wizards and witches are more powerful than others. They can do wandless magic and nonverbal spells. I'm not... quite that talented, but I got high marks in my classes."

Mark didn't care what other witches and wizards could do. He could care less about her school scores. He was trying to figure out if any of this changed who Dominique was. Did he see her differently? Had she grown warts on her nose and scales on her legs as she spoke? Had she changed from good to evil before his eyes?

All he could see was Dominique Weasley. Holding a stick.

"Is there... Anything else I should know?" he asked meekly.

She hesitated. _Please don't,_ he silently pleaded. _Give it to me. All at once._

"There's a whole world, Mark. It's not just... A school and some families. The shop I work in is in an alley behind a pub you've never seen before. We have different money than you, newspapers, magazines, music, art- an entire government that exists right below your nose. There are mountains full of dragons and giants, lakes full of merpeople, forests full-"

"Dragons?!" he choked.

She nodded solemnly. "More creatures than I can name off the top of my head. More creatures than you can comprehend. If you want, you can borrow my copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_."

His voice was a little high as he answered, "Maybe next- ahem!- Maybe next time."

She chanced a grin and bit her lip. He loved that look. It made him weak in the knees, wanting to grab onto her for support. He couldn't help but smirk back.

"So..." she said slowly.

"So," he agreed. He touched his fingertips together several times, searching for words. "So."

"Well..." Dom wrapped her arms around her middle. The atmosphere had seemed to be getting normal, almost comical. Now it seemed like a cold had settled over them. "What do you think?"

"I dunno," he said honestly. He looked back at the ring. "I wish you had... Told me sooner. But then, I probably wouldn't have believed you. Of course, I suppose you and your whole family could be mental, that's always an option..."

Suddenly the ring box began to float up from the table top. He jumped from his seat with a startled yelp, climbing over the back and keeping the chair firmly between him and the possessed box. He looked over at Dom who was pointing her wand at the box. As she moved the stick, so did the box moved to mirror it.

"Not mental. I get it," he said hurriedly. The box settled down and she put her hands on her hips. "Could... Could you do that again?" Her eyes widened and then narrowed, lips twisted in a purse. He glanced away, slightly embarrassed. "Right. Sorry."

"But... Do you think..." He looked at her. She was twisting her fingers around, her wand sticking out of her pocket. "Can this work?"

"I mean..." Mark ran a hand through his hair before passing it over his face, rubbing his jaw. "It's a lot. It's damn wicked, to be honest, but it's... It's a bit scary." He let out a long breath. "It might take some time, but... I think. I think I could be okay with it. I mean. It doesn't- it doesn't really change who you are. Who you've always been. Not to me."

Dom's face softened, slowly growing from concerned to hopeful. Maybe even disbelief.

"Really?"

He laughed quietly. "Yes, really. I love you, Dominique Weasley. I don't think anything can change that."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" she cried before throwing herself into his lap, almost collapsing in relief. Mark laughed again as she curled into his arms. Surely there hadn't been an _actual_ Merlin? "I was so afraid..."

She didn't finish her sentence. He snuggled closer, trying not to eye her wand too much.

"Don't be," he said, kissing her head. "Love conquers all, doesn't it?" Her arms tightened in response. "I... Um... Well, I do have one question, though."

He didn't want to, but it had been nagging him since their talk began.

"Ask me anything," she replied.

"Well... Have you ever, you know... Used magic... On me?"

* * *

**Translation**   
_"Why didn't you tell us he was a Muggle?" she demanded._

_"Mama," Dom pleaded, "please, he's a wonderful man!"_

_"And does he know you're a witch?" Mother Fleur did not seem at all happy._


	3. Phase Three: Burn It Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Obliv-"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Please enjoy and know that I really own nothing except the Original Characters. All hail the JK Rowling, mother of the Harry Potter universe! Rose, please grab tissues...

Dom stiffened, fear coursing through her. _Anything!_ she thought frantically. _Anything but that!_

"Dom?" Mark prodded, concerned.

Fighting a sob, she drew back from him and braced herself to set fire to her relationship.

Again.

~*~

Mark's heart was beating wildly again, first faster as if it might beat out of his chest, then slower and louder as if it were preparing to stop. He was sure he'd end up in hospital by night's end.

"Dom?" he asked again. There was fear in the question this time. She had completely removed herself from him. He could feel the answer coming and he tried to brace himself. "Say something!"

"Yes!" she burst. "Yes, I've used magic on you before! I've even..." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I slipped you a potion once."

"A love potion?!" he choked out before he could stop himself. After the look of shock flashed across her face, he felt guilty for jumping to such a conclusion. He couldn't help it, though- the thought had been plaguing him all evening.

"No! No, never!" she said quickly. "It was a truth potion!" Dom covered her mouth with her hand and her face turned red.

Mark was taken aback. A truth potion. "I- I don't... recall this." He tried to search his memory for a time in the last eight months when he was truthful. Not that he wasn't normally so, but perhaps he would have felt compelled to be?

"It was about three and a half years ago," she said quietly.

He cast her a frown. "Dominique, I've only just met you this last April," he replied. Did she think he was that stupid?

"No, Mark..." She took a deep breath. Her fingers were twisting themselves again. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if she wanted to make a run for it. "This is the third time we've dated in the last four years." She bit her lip. "The only magic I've ever used on you are memory spells."

For a split second, Mark's brain stopped working altogether. He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink. The synapses had ceased to fire. He simply stared blankly at her with the words 'memory spells' flashing like a computer error message in his brain. Were it not for the burning in his chest, his lungs screaming for oxygen, it may have continued to stay shut down for quite some time. Despite his need for air, he took his next beath slowly, calmly. He began to process.

"Mark?" Dominique's voice said.

Dominique the witch.

~*~

His eyes had glazed over and he had stopped moving. For a moment Dominique thought he had stopped breathing before definitely noting the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. He seemed to not hear her. Tentatively, she called his name again.

His eyes flickered with sudden life and recognition as they met hers. It startled her and she took a step back, chewing on a nail. Finger twisting had replaced this nervous habit long ago, but she couldn't help it. This was far exceeding what comfort finger twisting could provide.

"Tell me," he began in a low voice, "about the other times."

"You probably-"

"Dominique," he interrupted firmly. He almost never used her full name. She took another step back. "Start talking. Tell me what I want to hear. Don't make excuses. Don't tell me that I don't want to know. Just tell me the truth!"

The hard edge in his voice made her flinch. He was angry. Though she could easily Apparate away, Dom felt she had no where to escape to. She lowered her hand and forced her mouth open. Suddenly, the waterfall of words rushed forward.

"We met four years ago today, ice skating in the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park," she began. "I was living on my own, at this flat, finishing my last term of Obliviator training and working part-time at the robes shop. I didn't go home for Christmas because my parents were furious that I was thinking about dropping out of training and becoming Madame Malkin's apprentice. I was angry that they thought they had a right to what I did with my life."

She moved to sit down, then she stood up, paced the tiny living room, and finally stopped to lean against the sofa, picking at loose threads.

"I fell trying to show off to a friend. Took you down with me." The corners of his mouth twitched. That seemed like a good sign. "You made some offhand remark about beautiful klutzes. Helped me up. Bought me a hot chocolate. My friend conveniently disappeared and we spent the whole night talking. We were together until June."

"What went wrong?" he asked. His voice was soft now. Gentle. It was the voice of the Mark she loved.

"I gave you the gist of the situation in as non-magical terms as I could. You told me to finish school. You said, 'Maybe you'll never use that bit of parchment they put your diploma on, but it will be yours and the shop will still be there. Maybe it will make your mum happy if you tell her it's a back up.' So I finished. It was only one more term and it wasn't as if being a licensed Obliviator wouldn't be handy. And I was so proud. And you were right, it made Mum very happy that I had at least finished." She wiped under her eyes, trying to keep any more tears from falling. "I wanted you to come to the ceremony, but that meant telling you. So I slipped you a truth potion in your tea and then told you. I wanted to know what you really thought."

"And what did I really think, under the influence of a potion?" he asked steadily.

"You said you couldn't deal with it." Her shoulders rose and fell helplessly. "You said that it was too much. That I was... Too different." Dom swallowed, unable to look at him. "I explained that I couldn't let you leave with that knowledge, being a Muggle. So I used my training and I removed myself from your memory. I never thought I'd see you again. But then, a few months later, you walked into my favorite sports pub for a bachelor party."

She laughed a bit and forced herself to sit down if only to keep her hands from shaking. "I was so absorbed in the game, I didn't even know it was you. You put a beer right in front of me and told me how I was wasting my time rooting for Gloucestor against a team like Bristol City. I said I liked the underdogs and you said- what was it? 'Guess that means I've a shot at asking you out then?' I looked over to smile and there you were. I thought to myself, 'maybe it's fate?' And suddenly we were dating again, doing everything all over again for the first time and it was wonderful..."

"What happened that time?"

Dom shrugged. "You caught me. I was making dinner and you came to surprise me and saw everything flying and cutting and cooking. You looked so afraid, you spun around and marched right out and I had to run after you- I didn't even have time to explain. You wouldn't let me. So I did it all over again.

"And then what should happen a few months later, but you walk right into that shop? You pick up a pair of shorts, randomly, just to turn about and ask me what I think! I began to doubt that my magic was even working! What on earth were the odds of meeting you a third time! London is a huge city and I'm not in the Muggle parts all that often, and when I am, I make a concious effort to stay away from where you normally go. But you keep finding me. And I tried so hard to stay away, but I needed that shop. Madame Malkin's was down for renovations and I needed the money. I couldn't believe you kept coming back, day after day, asking my advice on hideous thing after hideous thing and I gave in. I shouldn't have, I knew I shouldn't have, but..."

She stopped and wiped her eyes, realizing that they were shedding tears without permission. She took a shaky breath and sighed. "I love you, Mark. I have since the first time and I couldn't help but think... Maybe this time will be different. We're older. Wiser. We can handle this. I can do this. It will all be okay. I had it all planned. I was going to introduce you to my parents. They were going to love you and you were going to love them and then I was going to bring you home and tell you properly and then tell them because after they knew you, they wouldn't be able to help but love you. And it all fell apart! Fell to pieces and I couldn't stop it. All the ride home, I kept thinking about what I did wrong, what would have made it better- some Ravenclaw I am," she added to herself.

She looked out the window, one hand propping up her chin, her eyes still wet. "I really thought this time would be different..."

~*~

Mark couldn't stand being angry at Dom and he was doing his best to douse it. The question was, could he still be with her? Suddenly, there was a heavy mound of orange fluff in his lap and he unconsciously stroked Crookshanks the Second. The part 'neezel.' She half purred, half growled, burrowing into his arms.

He looked around the tiny flat, trying to find a piece of it that wasn't familiar to him, or perhaps too familiar to him. He couldn't fathom that he simply didn't remember dating Dom those other times. He could remember the events she put to him, but he remembered them differently. That is, he couldn't remember them clearly. He could recall now, however, his mates asking about a girlfriend he didn't have. He would reply with the story that they had broken up, assuming he had made up 'plans with the girlfriend' as a means to get out of doing something.

"It's not fair." The moment the words left his mouth, he could feel the anger coming back. Tears pricked his eyes. He pushed Crookshanks from his lap and stood up, pacing into the kitchen. The cat meowed her displeasure. "This isn't bloody fair! Who do you think you are?"

"Mark-"

"No! No, you're going to listen now! What the hell gives you the right to play God?" He wanted to hold back, but he needed to get this out. It would chew at his insides if he didn't. "You think that just because you have magic, that gives you permission to erase my memory? To rewrite my _history_!"

She flinched as he spat the last word. She answered in numb tones, "I'm bound by the Statute of Secrecy to-"

He rounded on her, pointing accusingly. "I don't give a _damn_ about your secrets! Tell me, Dom, when you first went about telling me you were a witch, how long did I have to make up my mind and give you your 'truthful' answer, eh?"

Dom sank back down on the sofa with wide, tearful eyes. "About an hour," she answered weakly.

"An _hour_?" he echoed.

She flinched. "The potion was diluted because I had mixed it with your tea so it doesn't-"

" _An hour_ " he repeated, not caring about potions or tea. "You gave me all of _an hour_ to learn that you were a witch and decide if I was okay with that? _One bloody hour_!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried. The pain on her face made his heart wrench. He was causing her this pain- but his anger would not be so easily put out. This wasn't fair, none of it was fair! "I didn't think it all through, I'm sorry! I had it _right_ this time, but I mucked it all up again and I couldn't take it back. I could modify your memory, but that's the same as lying and I won't have it!"

Mark ran a hand over his face, taking a moment to process. It didn't calm him down. "When were you going to tell me?" he demanded.

Dom raked a hand through her hair, sniffing. "I was hoping that you just wouldn't ask," she replied.

"Why bother telling me now!"

"Because I didn't want to lie to you!"

"It would still be a lie either way!" he declared. "Our history is a lie. There are huge chunks of the last four years that I don't even remember properly- that makes me feel like my life is a lie!"

She didn't reply and that only made it worse. Mark's heart beat wildly again. He paced the tiny apartment once more before snatching the ring up off the table. He held the small box in his fist and spoke slowly. "This was supposed to be a promise of love and trust and it is meaningless at this moment." Her head fell and her breath hitched. His chest felt like he was digging a knife in himself. The tears began to fall. "I'm sorry, I can't... I just can't. Maybe if you had given me time the first time or the second time or not bloody erased my memories, but I just... This is too much. And I can't trust you not to use magic on me again."

Slowly, Dom stood up and pulled out the stick. The wand. They stared at each other for a long moment, tear stained face for tear stained face. "You know I can't let you leave remembering," she said quietly.

"I gathered that, yeah," he replied. The anger was gone again. The numbness was setting in.

She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "You're going to want to sit down." He didn't want to, but he did, not wanting to fall over if that's what she was implying. "I promise you... This won't ever happen again." She looked at him and there was determination in her watery eyes. "I'll make sure of it."

He looked up into that beautiful face. He tried to memorize it. He wanted it burned into his brain. No matter his anger, he wanted to remember the strawberry tresses, the full lips, the freckles. Why couldn't he leave with the memories? Why couldn't he keep them? His own treasure.

Her wand raised and suddenly the last eight months were flashing before his eyes again. Paint on her face for the football game. Her in his old college sweatshirt. Snuggling on the rooftop, watching the sunrise. Whipped cream on her nose. Snow in her hair. The tinkling laugh. The brilliant smile.

Surely there was no magic in the world that could really take this from him?

" _Obliv-_ "

"Wait!"

" _-iate._ "

He saw her gasp, cover her mouth with her free hand, the horror on her face as she realized he had spoken.

_Remember strawberry..._

A green light hit him.


	4. Phase Four: Remember Strawberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I understand it was her birthday, but it was also Christmas and you've been together eight months this time around -you could at least call for tea!"
> 
> "She prefers coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Please enjoy and know that I really own nothing except the Original Characters. All hail the JK Rowling, mother of the Harry Potter universe!

Mark awoke with a sudden intake of breath. He lifted his head, quickly taking in his surroundings. As the details of his bedroom slowly came into focus, his heart slowed its panicked beating and the dull pounding of a hangover headache took its place. He groaned and rolled deeper into his coffee colored duvet. He had been dreaming... A strawberry had been wearing his college sweatshirt. For some reason, that bothered him.

He shook it off- what had happened last night? He reached toward his nightstand for his phone and felt around for the button on the side. Through one squinted eye, he watched the screen light up.

_December 26, 2026 - 11:26 AM_

The day after Christmas. He dropped the phone and rubbed his eyes. _Must have been some party,_ he thought with a groan. _Wish I could remember it._ As an after thought, he moved his limbs liberally through the cotton sheets and covers. Colliding with nothing, he was satisfied that he hadn't brought anyone home last night.

Good. One less awkward conversation to worry about.

With effort, he forced himself to get up- or at least sit on the edge of the bed. Nausea did not immediately overtake him and he saw this as a good sign.

Again, he reached for his phone and almost immediately it began to ring. He checked the caller ID. The picture of a smiling older woman greeted him. Mummy. He slid his finger across the screen to answer, pressed the speaker icon, and set the device back down.

"Have you no respect for the dead?" he asked miserably.

On the other end, Edna Gail Ross clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Don't tell me you went and got yourself smashed on your big dinner night!"

Mark winced at the shrillness of her voice while his throbbing head raced into action to figure out what she was talking about. Had he lied to get out of dinner and go to a party again? He really needed to stop doing that. Not only were the hangovers hell, but apparently he didn't have the memory capacity to remember when and what he lied about. Thankfully, in his silent stupor, his mother filled in the blanks for him.

"You'll never hold a proper girlfriend if you muck up in front of her parents and this poor girl has given you three chances!" she quipped. "And you haven't ever brought her 'round so I'm a bit cross that you've met with her family and she hasn't met yours. I understand it was her birthday, but it was also Christmas and you've been together eight months this time around -you could at least call for tea!"

"She prefers coffee," he answered absently, though he didn't know why he bothered to correct her. He didn't have any girlfriend who preferred tea, coffee, or otherwise. Mark covered his eyes with one hand and massaged his temples. Why was he always making up a girlfriend to avoid his mother? She was one of his favorite people in the world on most days.

"That can be arranged," she said amicably. "Now, then, I expect you and Miss Dominique Weasley here for the New Year's Eve party. I will not be refused in this matter, Mark, or it will damage our relationship!"

Dominique Weasley?

Mark lifted his head and looked over at the phone with a frown. How could his mother believe he had a real girlfriend? Even her name sounded made up! Why had he never noticed? _Because I never remember._

Shaking his head at the mess he'd somehow gotten himself into, he mumbled, "I'll be there alone, Mum. We broke it off again. That's why I was drinking last night." It sounded plausible.

"Oh," she said, sounding quite subdued now. He heard her mumble something that sounded like _'Who needs grandchildren anyway?'_ Louder, she said, "You poor thing. I never liked that girl anyway."

Despite his head, he laughed. "Mum, you never even met her, you can't not like her."

"It is a mother's prerogative to dislike the women that date her son," she said crisply. "That goes double for the one's that break his heart. And I shall dislike whomever I choose! But, that's fine, then! There's a pretty little secretary that just started at your father's office, about your age. She'll be at the party as well- maybe you two will hit it off! Or at least maybe she can distract you from thinking about the Weasley girl with a little romp!"

"Mum!" he cried, not sure whether to laugh or be disgusted.

"Well, how else am I going to get grandchildren? I don't mind if they're illegitimate as long as I get to see them when I want," she clucked.

"Julie has one, Allen has two- why do you pick on me so much?"

"You're the oldest!" she said firmly. "It's your responsibility to your mother. Oh, there goes the door. I'll see you next week, love. Cheers!"

The line went dead and Mark rolled his eyes. That woman! He chuckled. God, he loved his mother. Though he didn't think he'd introduce any girlfriend to her unless the girl agreed to marry him first- otherwise, his mother would scare her off asking about grandchildren. He tried to remember the last time he had gone to visit with his mother. About a month ago, they met for lunch. The details were hazy. He'd had to leave to go meet... Someone. The rest of the day was mostly a blur of strawberry color.

Maybe he needed to pay a visit to his doctor.

With a shake of his head, he finally got to his feet and picked up his phone, unlocking it to check any messages from last night. An unfamiliar background picture greeted him. It was of a woman, he was sure, but that was all he was sure of. The picture was a terrible blur of creamy skin and strawberry hair. _Well, it can match the rest of my life, I suppose,_ he thought to himself. _Must have met her at the party last night..._

He went into his Gallery to find a better picture. Maybe one of his mates would recognize her. He scrolled through blurry picture after blurry picture. It wasn't like his phone to be this bad taking photos. They went on for ages. Who was this girl?

~*~

"You cannot be serious," Vic said from the fireplace. Well, it was little more than an old, dusty grate, but it was enough to work on the Floo network. Dom cast the floating heads of her brother and sister a look as she paced passed the flames.

It was two days after Christmas and she had finally figured out how to keep her promise. She just needed someone else to be aware of it. And she also needed someone with contacts in the Ministry. That would be both of her siblings.

"Dominique Gabrielle Weasley, you stop pacing this moment and tell me you're not serious!" she cried again.

Dom did stop. She scoffed and scowled. "You're not Mum," she said darkly before continuing her route. "Besides, it's not your decision. Neither of you. It's mine. I just need a little help getting there."

"What makes you think we would help you with something like this?" Louis demanded. "It's absolutely mental and there's no reason for it."

"I promised him, Louie," Dom insisted. "This is the only thing I can think of. It's the only way..." Her voice faltered and she had to stop the onslaught of tears. She had been crying for almost two days. What sort of witch was she?

_This is final,_ she reminded herself. _There is no going back from this and you know it. There will never be another chance to..._

"It's the only way to make sure this never happens again," she said firmly. "If it does, if he finds me... I can't just... I won't be able to..." She stopped again and sat on the ottoman in front of the grate. "I love him. I haven't been able to stop. Not since the first time I knew. I can't turn him away if he shows up again. I've tried and I've failed and I can't bring- bring myself to do it again. And besides which, you owe me! The both of you!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vic demanded, trying to hide the fact that she was already starting to give in to her little sister's wants. Dom could see it in her eyes.

She went into serious sibling mode as she crossed her legs Indian style and looked them both straight on. "The minute Fred and Teddy broke up, who was there, comforting him, inviting him over for dinner, making sure he knew _yours_ was the shoulder to lean on?"

Vic looked away rather than answer. Dom turned her gaze to their little brother.

"And you? I've covered your behind more times than I can count. Used my Prefect badge to help keep you and James out of trouble. Helped you get the Finnigan boy to go out with you when you thought you might like blokes-"

"Dom!" Louis was wide-eyed.

"I even helped you master the Polyjuice potion so you could pass your Conceal and Disguise test for the Aurors! Hell, it was _my_ hair that you used in it!" Louis and Vic looked at each other before deciding not to meet their sister's gaze. "I've been through the thick of it with both of you and when have I _ever_ asked you for anything?"

"You asked me for my dessert once," Louis mumbled.

"Something serious," Dom snapped. "And you didn't even give it to me! I had my tonsils removed!"

Silence. For a long moment, it stretched between them like a chasm. Dom felt like it was a losing argument. With a huff, she stood to her feet again and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water to douse the flames.

"I've got a couple friends I could get a hold of," Vic said finally.

"Victoire!" Louis hissed.

"What would you have me do, Louie?" she shot back. "My little sister is in pain and asking for help! There's no one to care about how she feels but us- that muggle doesn't remember her anymore!"

"His name is Mark," Dom said numbly, returning to the fire. _It's for the best,_ she reminded herself.

Louis looked from one sister to the other before defeat was evident in his face. He sighed. "There's a woman I know in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, she owes me a favor. She finished her training the year after you, actually." He gave Dom a long look as if expecting her to suddenly change her mind. "How does a bloody Ravenclaw come up with a plan this mental? I'll see what I can do. Give me a couple days, yeah?"

"Thank you, Louie," Dom said weakly.

With a nod, his head melted into flickering flames, leaving only Vic behind. She was about to leave as well.

"Vic?" she said quickly before she could disappear. "Don't tell Mum and Dad, yeah?"

She let out a slow breath. "Isn't that where most of your problems come from, Dom? Not telling?" Dom merely gave her a pleading look and her big sister rolled her eyes. "I promise I won't say anything until it's over with. Then it won't matter, but they should know. Dad actually really likes Mark and Mum was grudgingly impressed. They're going to want to know." She stared at her younger sister a long while before adding, "You know, this really won't change much. He will probably find you again- you two are connected somehow. I don't see how this helps you keep your promise."

Dom gestured helplessly. "I... I don't know, Vic. But it's something. Maybe I won't like him as much. At the very least, my answer will be 'no' when he asks if I've used magic on him before."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

Suddenly, Dom was alone with only the small, crackling fire before her. She tossed the cup of water onto it and it died, hissing and sputtering pathetically. "So do I."

~*~

Mark wandered about London for nearly a week in almost a fog of thought. Every time he slept, strawberries danced in his dreams. Every time he opened his closet, he was assaulted by a familiar perfume that he couldn't remember smelling before. Every time he walked down the street, he found himself stopping women on the side walk with strawberry blond hair because he thought he knew them. He had doled out so many pardons and apologies, he wasn't sure he had any other words in his vocabulary.

Something was missing. It wasn't just a concern now, it was a fact. Something was wrong with him. The question was: What?

It was a great relief when his best mate messaged him to grab a pint at their favorite pub- something to take his mind off of what he couldn't figure out. For the time being, the only precautions he could take were Febreze and changing the background picture on his phone. Any distraction would do at this point. Plus, he was hoping that good old Donny would be able to fill in some of the gaps from Christmas.

He arrived at the pub with only two incidents of trying to stop and examine complete strangers and that, today, was an accomplishment. He pulled up a seat at the bar, thankful that they weren't busy. He ordered two pints and just as they were delivered, a tall, lanky man with receding sandy blond hair took the seat next to him with a huge grin on his face. He grabbed one of the mugs and guzzled a third of the beer inside before turning to Mark expectantly.

"I was hopin' yeh'd be available. I'm sure yer holiday has been nothin' but run, run, run since Christmas, eh?" Donnie said, excited.

Mark offered a confused smile before drinking some of his own beer, the amber liquid cold yet some how warming. "It's... It's certainly been interesting," he replied. "Listen, Donnie, I was wondering if I could ask you something about last week."

"Yeah?" The man leaned closer, eager.

He tried not to frown, tried not to let on how bad his memory was in recent times. "Er- Could you tell me what happened on Christmas?"

"Bloody hell, man, yer s'posed ta tell me!" Donnie cried with a laugh. He clapped Mark roughly on the shoulder before taking another swig from his mug. "I wan' all the details. How's the cougar reflect on the cub?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Mark gave a nervous laugh and took another drink. "We- We'll get back to that. I honestly don't remember a thing and I was hoping you could help." He pulled out his phone and showed him the blurry pictures in his gallery.

Instantly, the look on Donnie's face fell into a somber realization. His mouth was set in a thin line. "I see," he said darkly.

"Do you know who she is?" Mark asked earnestly. "I was hoping you would know more about it. I'm having the weirdest week..."

Donnie downed the last half of his beer and set the mug down with a sense of finality. He let out a slow breath and did not turn to look at Mark.

"I'm done," he said finally, shaking his head. "I love yeh, Marky, yer like a brother to me. But I've had enough. That girl doona deserve ta be disrespected like this an' I doona care how bad the break up was. I wen' along with it the firs' two times, but I won' do it this time. Yeh go through, destroy her pictures, pretend like you don' remember. I'm jus' done."

Donnie reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and threw a five note on the bar. Mark's eyes followed his movement, frowning. First his mum, now Donnie? Who was this girl?

"Donnie, wait, now, you're my best mate! I need your help!" Mark said suddenly. He stood when Donnie stood, leaving the pint behind.

"Oh, yeah, yeh need help, mate," Donnie agreed, "but no' from me. I wan' ta take yeh out and slug yeh for doin' this again, but yer me brother an' I canna bring meself ta do it. Why doona you start by findin' Dom and workin' this out before you ruin it again."

Donnie turned and started out. Mark stared after him, more confused than ever.

"But I don't know who she is!" he called.

"Sure. Jus' like you dinna buy the ring," was all Donnie said before he left.

~*~

Mark had finished his pint alone and in silence. He went home with no answers. All he knew for sure was that he had definitely lost something and it wasn't the first time. Maybe he could pull on over on his mother because he wouldn't take a girl to meet her, but Donnie had known every girl he had ever dated and vice versa. There were certain checks a man went through before he committed to a girl and approval from your best friend was the first thing on the list.

He opened the closet again, the perfume having defeated the Febreze once again. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt like it might be in here. He began flipping through the hangars, shirt after shirt, pants after pants. What? What did he think he could find in here?

He stopped on his coat. It was his good winter coat that he only wore on special occasions and business meetings. He had it dry cleaned after every wear. Every single time. Yet it was not inside it's garb bag. In fact, it looked rumpled and used. Mark frowned and pulled it out to examine it.

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it other than it had been worn and not dry cleaned. It was not likely something he would forget, but here was the evidence. Curious, he went through the pockets. One was empty. The other held a little box.

He froze, heart thumping in his chest. He drew it out. There was only one thing that would come in a box that looked like that. The coat fell to the floor as he stared at the tiny little velvet thing. Carefully, he opened it up to see the rock inside.

_I bought this ring for a woman I know as Dominique Weasley. She is smart, funny, spontaneous. She works at a shop I've never been to. Never even learned the name of. She works out her frustrations in her styling projects. She wants to open her own shop one day. She has the strangest cat I've ever seen, a gift from a family friend. She loves ice skating. She is never ashamed or apologetic for anything that she is. She never misses a football game. At least, she hasn't since I introduced her to it._

_Remember strawberry._

Tears fell down Mark's face. The ice skating ring. The bar. The clothing shop.

"Dominique Weasley. With the strawberry hair," he whispered to himself. "My witch."


	5. Phase Five: Tell Me Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can stop hitting him, I remember!"
> 
> "Yeah, stop hitting me, he remembers! Hit him!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Please enjoy and know that I really own nothing except the Original Characters. All hail the JK Rowling, mother of the Harry Potter universe!

Mark sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the little diamond inside the velvet box. Dominique Weasley. He let the memories wash over him- every last one of them. He closed his eyes and he could practically feel her lips on his. Smell her shampoo. Taste her skin. It seemed incredible to him that just a few moments ago she had been a fictional person he thought he had made up to get out of dinner. How could he ever forget?

No magic could ever make him forget.

He remembered thinking that the first time as he had stared down the pointy end of her elegant wand. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he had remembered strawberry and he had found her again. He took a shaking breath and passed a hand over his face, wiping away the tears. They sprang back.

He had never even told her that their first meeting had been his own devising. (Of course, he didn't remember their first meeting before now.) After being ridiculed for his poor skating ability, he had bet his friends that he was good enough to get a date. He had skated right into Dom on purpose.

The memory made him laugh even though it hurt. The anger from Christmas night was still alive in his chest, burning away, but he wanted to laugh and cry and hold that confounded woman in his arms and never let her go. What was he supposed to do now? She had promised that this would never happen again. How was she going to keep that promise?

There was only one thing he could do, he decided. He closed the box with a determined snap and stood, pacing the room, trying to work out his plan. It was too late in the night to go to her now and with his luck, she'd probably think he was an intruder and... Well... Cast a spell? Hex? Witches hexed, right? Yeah, she'd probably hex him.

He had to wait, at least for daylight tomorrow. In the mean time, Mark grabbed his phone and searched his recent messages for Donnie's last text. He opened the conversation.

_You were right, Donnie. And, well, no, not right. But sort of right? I don't know if I'll ever be able to explain. I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to fix it and I'm going to do it tomorrow. I needed to make sure that we were okay because in case I forgot to say something (you know my memory), if all goes well tomorrow, I need you to be my best man._

He waited for a long moment, staring at the screen, holding his breath and feeling foolish for doing so. He felt like his mother, waiting for a bit of juicy gossip.

A series of tones alerted him of a reply.

_About time! Hell, man, you can't keep me on the hook like that! I want to hear everything at your mum's party tomorrow!_

Mark grinned and closed the window, opening his recent calling list and selecting 'Mummy.'

"Mark!" Her voice gushed through the speaker as if they hadn't spoken in weeks rather than just this morning. "I was just thinking about you! Your father told that bird in his office about you and she seemed very interested, he says!"

Mark laughed as his nervousness compounded on top of the determination. "Well, she'll have to cool her heels with one of Dad's partner's sons," he told her. "I'm bringing Dom. I'm getting her back." _I hope._

There was a short paused and then, "RICHARD! Richard, he's getting _married!_ WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SO MANY GRANDCHILDREN! RICHARD!"

Mark's eyes went wide. "Mum, no-!"

"RICHAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mark closed his eyes and sighed, waiting for his mother to calm down and return to the phone. _This is why I don't bring women home to meet my mother._

~*~

Mark paced passed the door, all the way to the end of the hall, and then back down the other way. He had been doing this for several moments and, with any luck, could continue to do so until she happened to come out herself. It had already happened with Mrs. Stonewell across the hall and Mr. Dorn next to her. They exchanged polite pleasantries, as they normally did, and continued on their way, casting him suspicious glances.

Finally he came to the door and pulled out his key ring. He spent a full two minutes going through each key four times and the one for Dom's apartment did not come up. He rolled his eyes at himself for not thinking before that she would have taken it. So he stooped down to the small potted plant next to the doormat and lifted. There was a false bottom where Dom kept a spare key.

As he turned the lock and opened the door, the thought entered Mark's mind that he should probably knock instead, but by the time he finished the thought, he was already in and standing inside the tiny kitchen.

Past the counter that separated the two main rooms, he saw two figures- one with white blond hair and one with bright red. At his entrance, they turned toward them and Mark was suddenly at a loss for names.

"What are _you_ doing here?" asked the red haired young man. The blond girl elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! Sorry, er, who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Dom," he said slowly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Cleaning. She's not here." This time it looked like she stepped on his foot. "OW! I mean, who's Dominique?" A pinch. "Ow! I mean Dom!"

V... V... "Vic! Victoire!" he said suddenly. "And Louis! Sorry, couldn't place your names- you can stop hitting him, I remember! You're witches!"

"Yeah, stop hitting me, he remembers! Hit him! I'm a wizard, not a witch!" Louis whined. Then he seemed to realize what he said and stared at Mark, mouth hanging open.

Mark suddenly found himself pinned by the hard, icy stare of Victoire. "How did you get in?" she demanded.

He lifted his hand, producing the hide-a-key.

"So you remember," she remarked tersely. Mark nodded. "Are you saying, then, that the spell didn't work?"

"Oh, it worked," he assured her. "But apparently, I've spent the last four years hell bent on remembering strawberries and it's lost a bit of its edge." Mark grinned at the idea that he, a mere mortal -or muggle?- had bested magic. "Look- I _love_ your sister. She has erased my memories two other times and I have _still_ found her. I ingrained strawberry so far into my mind that even when I didn't know her, my _heart_ still recognized her! Now I've fought it. And I _beat_ it! And I will never forget again!"

As he spoke, he watched the hard look on Victoire's face and the disbelieving look on Louis' melt away into matching soft expressions with small smiles as if they had just heard a very satisfying story.

"So please," he pleaded, looking between brother and sister, "please tell me where she is. My mother is expecting to meet her tonight."

Louis snapped to in an instant, his eyes widening in horror. "Oh no!"

"What?" his sister asked, turning to him with a frown.

"Well, it's just... We're cleaning up his stuff so it don't remind her of him," he mumbled.

"Your point?"

Louis scratched his head. "She was supposed to meet with my contact at the Obliviator's Office today," he replied, wincing as he did so.

"Louis!" Victoire screeched.

"What?!" he cried. "She wanted to start the New Year with a clean slate! You started this mess! 'Our little sister is hurting' and whatnot! What was I supposed to do? Expect a Muggle to resist a Memory Charm?"

"I didn't think you would actually go through with it!" she cried.

"What are you talking about?" Mark demanded, breaking back into the conversation.

The siblings looked at him with wide-eyed expressions and open mouths. Victoire recovered first, looking uncomfortable.

"Mind you, our sister is not the brightest Ravenclaw!" she said.

"In fact, she's a lot like a Gryffindor, the way she charges in, no thought. I mean she's brilliant, but she doesn't think," Louis added.

Mark did not try to understand, merely gestured for them to get on with it.

Victoire glanced at her brother before taking a deep breath. "Dom thought the best way to keep her promise... Was to erase you from her memory," she said quietly. "She said that, even if she met you again, at least she could answer honestly that she had never used magic on you before."

The world stopped for Mark in that moment. This couldn't all be for nothing- he couldn't have held on for four years for... For it all to fall apart now!

Turning to Louis, Victoire asked, "When was she supposed to have it done?" she demanded. "It's not yet noon- the New Year is more than twelve hours away- might she have wanted to wait until later?"

Louis shook his head a bit. "I- I dunno! I just know that they were supposed to meet..." He searched his memory for the answer.

Mark glanced around as if he might find it and he spied a piece of paper on the ice box with Dom's messy scrawl. _Diagon Alley. Noon._ "What's diagonally?" he asked.

The pair looked at him with realization. "The Alley!" they exclaimed.

Together, brother and sister rushed toward Mark, each latching onto one of his arms.

"Allow me," Victoire said.

"What-"

Before Mark could finish his question, the blond woman turned on the spot. Iron bands wrapped themselves around Mark's body. He couldn't see or hear anything, but he could feel the pain as they tightened around him, crushing flesh into bone, cutting off his air. Was this how he was going to die?

Almost as quickly as it started, it stopped. He could breathe and he took in great gulping bouts of air into his lungs until he was satisfied that they weren't collapsing. He then promptly fell to the floor, dizzy, and retched. Luckily, he had been too nervous to eat that morning and his stomach was empty, but a dry heave was worse. When he regained himself, he realized that they were in a different place altogether.

"Victoire Apolline Weasley!" a woman was shouting. The woman in question was coming closer, the crowd around her moving wisely out of her way. "What have I told you about apparating inside the Leaky Cauldron!"

"Don't do it unless it's an emergency," the younger woman replied, her head bowed slightly while her brother hid behind her. Mark slowly got to his feet. "But Aunt Hannah-!"

"Don't 'Aunt Hannah' me!" the other woman -Hannah- scowled. "You'd better have a good reason! You could have hurt someone!"

"But we've got to find Dom! It's important! We're running out of time!" Victoire said desperately.

A confused and familiar and beautiful voice rose from the bar, the response of which brought quiet to the busy pub. "I'm right here, Vic," Dom said, standing and giving her sister a queer look. "What's so important?"

Mark stood for a moment just staring across the space separating them. It had only been a week since he last saw her, but with the gaping loss of memory, it felt like years. Hell, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time. He made his way to her, breathing heavier than he should as he was still a bit queasy from his 'commute.' She looked at him with the shadow of a smile on her face, arching a delicate eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"You don't have to do that, Dom," Mark said. It took all of his will power not to just kiss her right then. "I remember. I remember it all, love, and I can't believe any magic could make me forget." She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her. "Please, just... Just let me finish. I know I'm just a... A muggle or... Whatever you call me, but please. Dominique, I love you. I've loved you since the day I met you and it's because I love you that I keep finding you. My heart is yours and what else can I do but come and find it again and again? You are the piece that makes me whole. And I beat it this time- I beat it and I remember."

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I'm not okay with you using magic on me. But I can't live without you. I accept you for who you are and what you are- every piece of you and I was a fool to ever say otherwise." Mark reached for her hand and held it in his, the bemused smile on her face lifting his hope higher than he thought possible. "I thought that maybe eight months was too soon to ask," he said with a laugh. "But four years- that's a relationship to be reckoned with. Dom, I still want to marry you if you'll have me."

He held his breath, waiting for her answer, those big blue eyes alight with recognition and maybe even mischief. He loved those eyes.

Finally, she said, "Do I know you?"

Mark frowned. His hold on her hand loosened. "Stop playing. Dom, I remember!"

"I- I'm sorry, I'm pretty fuzzy today," she said.

Suddenly her brother and sister swooped in on either side.

"Dom, it's not even noon, don't tell me we're too late!" Victoire said, tears in her voice.

"Too late for what?" Dom asked, looking back and forth from Louis to Victoire. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on? Louie, is this one of your jokes?"

"Come on, sis, if Mark can beat it, you can!" Louis cried. He shook his sister's shoulder violently as if it would jar her memory.

"Knock it off!" Dom said, swatting him on the back of the head. "I'm not a snow globe!"

Mark really didn't know what to do now. He felt lost. It really had been for nothing. He turned and was faced with a room full of wizards and witches, some staring in shock, some casting sympathetic looks. Others sent him glares and muttered under their breath. The woman from when they arrived, Aunt Hannah, looked the most crestfallen as she glanced between Mark and her niece.

He spotted a door and headed for it, needing to get out of this dingy pub. He thought he heard a voice, calling him, but he ignored it. Outside, he was met with a blank brick wall. He stared for several moments, not sure what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to go now. At least he was alone.

The door opened and he looked up. Dom. He looked away, now seeing that what he thought was a look of recognition was actually only curiousity.

"You're not getting back to London this way," she said.

"I'm not getting anywhere anyway," he replied gruffly. "Look, I'm sorry I... I bothered you. I promise, you'll never hear from me again." How was he going to explain this to his mum? He shook his head and tried to go back to find a real exit. "Excuse me..."

"Wait," Dom said. Her hand reached out and caught his arm. He turned to look at her, wondering if maybe she now remembered something. "You said such beautiful things in there. I'm sorry I don't remember. Vic sort of gave the cliff notes version. I'm not a very good Ravenclaw- I often do things without thinking..."

Mark rolled his eyes. He was tired of hearing that. Still, he couldn't bring himself to remove his arm from her grasp.

"But, I mean... It's New Year's Eve... Time to start over new and all that. And since you're here..." She smiled at him, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Mark felt his own mouth twitch as he recognized her flirting. "Tell me who you are."


End file.
